Dear Diamond
Not today anyway.
Ogling him wouldn't make him go away, and I had no interest in confronting him regarding why he'd asked about me. So, I went back to my dressing station and began to reapply the heavy makeup that I hoped hid my identity. It might not actually do the trick, but I'd convinced myself that I was a different person when I caked it on. Nikki Wilson wasn't the girl on that stage taking off her clothes for strangers; Diamond was. And Diamond was edgy, strong, a force to be reckoned with. She had gumption, determination. Her give-a-fuck didn't even register. The second the first beat played through the speakers, Nikki became Diamond, and Diamond owned that stage.
Bab Populer